


Chasing Eternity

by zombolouge



Series: What is it with Redheaded Rogues, Anyways? [7]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adina has no patience for your shit, Adventures, Hitting on Cassandra, Humor, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Qunari mage is giving everything side eye, Taming Bears, based on a tabletop campaign, effervescent elves, elves that are really bad at everything, it starts in a tavern because of course it does, original plotlines, really bad jokes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-30 15:54:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6430849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombolouge/pseuds/zombolouge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heroism doesn't always come from the people in charge.  Sometimes it takes a ragtag group of nobodies to help save the world.  And sometimes those nobodies find a way to be somebodies along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Always Starts in a Tavern

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the story that is based off of the DA tabletop campaign I was running. It takes place after Trespasser has concluded, and of course it's set in my Red-Headed Rogues universe. 
> 
> You can expect cameos from some of the standard DA characters, but this story follows the player characters from the campaign, and it is their narrative that I'm telling, with a healthy dose of lore sprinkled in for good measure. There will be action, adventure, and of course, because it's me, FEELINGS OF ALL KINDS. Hopefully you guys enjoy it, because I am obligated to write the whole thing or my group might kill me. 
> 
> SO LET'S GET STARTED, SHALL WE?

Hasmal reeked of humans.  He could smell the sweat clinging to their thin skin, an odorous beacon growing stronger as his footsteps carried him towards the tavern.  He could also smell the ale and piss and vomit that wafted from the doorway, layers of disgusting aromas bound into the grains of the miserable wood.  The people that stumbled past him smelled of disease, sacks of rotted meat slumping along on bones made unsteady by booze and filth.  Eyes filled with fright darted away as he passed, his height and horns making the insignificant imbeciles quiver with unease. 

Saar Talan was a sight to behold.  Standing an impressive six foot three even before adding the two foot horns spiraling out of the top of his skull, the Qunari towered over the smaller races that scurried across Thedas.  He often used his height to his advantage, allowing those he encountered to fear him, a reaction more common here on the edge of the Free Marches than he normally achieved in Tevinter.  Here the people recalled the rumors of the disasters in Kirkwall, and they looked upon him with a more practical hatred, a fear driven by the _proof_ that his people were savages, rather than the obstinate belief that the Imperium held. 

It was better that they fear him than try to talk to him, in any case, as speech tended to make him feel an unquenchable urge to rip the tongues out of those he conversed with.  Rage was his most common emotion, followed by cold contempt in a close second.  These facts did not serve to make him particularly loquacious, even to those whose presence he had occasionally tolerated. 

The dusty tavern at the center of town welcomed him with as much enthusiasm as a funeral pyre.  The building was old, and as he breathed in the tepid air he could taste the dregs of silt from the nearby river, clinging to his tongue through the moisture he inhaled.  It was built out of wood of indeterminate quality, as time had warped and cracked each board, rendering it a mystery as to how long it had actually stood there, defiant in the face of the mortal refuse that flitted between its doors.  He pressed a hand to the door, swinging it open with a creak like the death knell of a seagull.  Within he could see a small room lit by dim, greasy lamps.  Smoke filled the air and stung his eyes, but the promise of something to eat and drink was too enticing to pass up, and so he surveyed the area for a place to rest his feet.  He had been traveling for longer than his mind could even comprehend at this point, and all he really wanted was to get quietly obliterated until he couldn’t remember the throbbing in the soles of his feet. 

Someone directly behind him cleared her throat, the sound making him cringe with its self-righteous demand to be heard.  He turned his head slowly to peer down at a surprisingly tall woman in dingy plate mail, her dark gaze full of hunger and impatience.  She had wavy, chocolate brown hair, twisted into a haphazard ponytail, greasy and tangled as though she had been living beneath someone’s porch for several days.  She tilted her head to the side, indicating the doorway, and he realized that he was blocking her path into the bar. The corner of his lips twitched, an unfamiliar smile trying to work its way through his disdain.  He gave her a facetious bow as he stepped to the side, his horns just missing the tip of her nose, which was shaped with the fine elegance that could only be handed down by heritage.  She had the bones of a noble, hidden under the layers of dirt that pronounced “poverty” in the broad strokes and smudges on her gaunt cheeks.  She rolled her eyes before turning away, looking through the crowded establishment for a place to hang up the reigns to her high horse, no doubt.  She was arrogant enough to make up for the starvation hiding beneath her grim gaze.

There was a clatter and a half formed yell from behind them before the woman was pushed forward several paces by a pair of dainty hands, braced against the metal clad back as the elven culprit ran headlong into the other woman.  A slip of a rogue with pale skin and even paler short cropped hair entangled herself with the warrior.  They stumbled for half a heartbeat before the elf promptly lost her balance, her face meeting the floor in an abrupt introduction.  The warrior turned to glare at the petit creature at her feet, and the elf squeaked as she bounced back upright, her green eyes wide with emotion that was too strong for Saar Talan’s tastes. 

The elf placed a hand on the beleaguered human’s shoulder. “Begging your pardon, m’lady!  I didn’t see you there!”

An impeccably maintained eyebrow arched on the dark woman’s face. “I’m two feet taller than you and wearing plate.  Are you blind, or trying to rob me?”

“Creators, no!  I just, it smelled so good in here, and I couldn’t wait to get inside, and I was looking at the table over there and I wanted to make sure I got a seat and then you didn’t keep walking forward like I thought you would and I really meant to walk ‘round you but then my feet didn’t go the way I planned and you just kept standing there and I was totally not trying to rob you – ”

“Enough!” the warrior clamped a hand over the girl’s mouth, and Saar Talan almost offered her a word of thanks for the reprieve.  Almost. “I believe you weren’t trying to rob me, so please just…stop whatever _that_ was.”

He returned his attention to the task at hand, looking over the throngs of stinking peasants for a place that was not overcrowded by their chattering idiocy.  There was only one table open at the back of the bar, and he nearly turned and immolated the two women standing in the doorway, as he knew they would come to the exact same conclusion that he had: they would have to share, or else find somewhere else for their meal.

He glanced over at them, and the elf was looking between them with an air of excitement.  The warrior, hand still clamped over the elf’s mouth as she started to gesticulate towards the table, met his eyes.  Her expression spoke volumes of their mutual desire to never actual get acquainted, as well as the futility of the sentiment.  He shrugged, readjusting the staff on his back and walking to the table, determined that if he could not sit alone he could at least be the first to sit.  The women followed, the warrior’s boots slamming into the ground with enough force to drown out the elf’s lighter cadence.

They each took places, the warrior taking the seat furthest away from Saar Talan, and the elf positioning herself directly between the two of them, overflowing with an excess of exuberance that made him reconsider his decision to stay.

“Hi, my name’s Murci.” Her smile was the sun itself, and Saar Talan had to resist the urge to hiss in response. They sat in astoundingly stony silence for a moment before the elf continued, her expression growing slightly too tight as she strained to hold her optimism. “And you are…?”

The warrior sighed, glaring at anything but the people she was speaking to. “Adina.”

He regarded Adina curiously for a moment, studying her iron resolve.  He could smell the Templar magic clinging to her bones, although it was weak and malformed, abilities that had been learned but poorly honed.  The idle thought that he should probably run passed through his head, but she didn’t seem any more intent on his destruction than anyone else in the tavern, and so his survival instinct to flee from all Templars was suppressed.  For the moment.  He realized, around two minutes too late for anyone to be comfortable, that Murci was staring at him, her smile frighteningly close to fracturing her face as her eyebrows crept upwards towards her hairline. 

“Saar Talan.” He grunted, and busied himself with the business of flagging down a waitress.

“You know, Adina, Saar Talan,” Murci folded her hands in front of her, leaning in with an obnoxious sense of glee, “I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship.

The waitress arrived at that moment, just as Adina choked on her own breath, a grimace marring her noble features.  Saar Talan quietly agreed with the reaction as they ordered drinks, the idea of starting a “beautiful friendship” with anyone, though especially these two, feeling unseemly and inadvisable.  He watched as Adina handed over a copper for the drink with practiced calm, noting the way her fingers gripped the coin and her eyes followed it as it changed hands.  She hid her dejection well, but it was still there even as she straightened her shoulders with more pride than she could afford.  Murci, on the other hand, passed entirely too much coin along to the waitress, who smiled sweetly before pocketing the money, failing to mention how much she was just overpaid.  He provided his own payment before folding his hands in his lap beneath the table.  The waitress bounced off, swaying her hips so that her skirts flipped back and forth. 

Murci giggled, and he wondered if he could murder her without anyone noticing. “So, what brings you two to Hasmal?”

Adina groaned, sinking back in her chair as she looked at the ceiling, beseeching the heavens for reprieve. “Can we not?  Can I just drink and not make small talk with the world’s most chipper chatterbox?”

“I was just being friendly.” Murci crossed her arms over her chest, jutting out her lower lip in a pout that could have melted the Frostbacks.

 “Well, it’s kind of annoy –” Adina snapped her mouth shut mid word as the cloaked figure approached their table, slinking across the tavern like a paragon of seedy endeavors, his footsteps lacking any sound or weight.  He was adorned with thick velvet robes, a hood folded over his head and couching most of his features in shadows.  He exuded a quiet grace as he placed his hand on top of the table, keen eyes looking over the three of them with cultivated appraisal.  Saar Talan could see the light of the lamps dance in the reflections of his deep set eyes, and the shadows shifted around the smile cracked across his face.

"Excuse me! Pardon the interruption.” His voice was oil poured over a still pond, cutting over the din and coating Saar Talan’s ears with slick unease. “I couldn't help but notice what a _fine_ group of mercenaries you were. I was wondering if you might be available for hire...I have an offer I don't think you will want to refuse."

“What does it pay?” Adina’s answer was immediate, though the distrust oozing from the set of her shoulders told him she would not play the fool willing to agree to anything. 

The mysterious man seemed taken aback, his mouth dropping open before he could recover his façade. “Oh, you will be paid handsomely of course.  I can promise a very large sum of gold upon completion of the job.”

Murci recoiled from his lanky fingers as the encroached her space across the table, his snakeskin demeanor off-putting even to her. “What do you want us to do?”

“More importantly, who are you to ask strangers for aid?” Saar Talan interjected himself into the conversation, more interested in the who than the what.  The intention behind this alleged job would be far more telling than the actual task, and far more important in his decision on whether to undertake it or not. 

“Ah, a discerning question!  My name is Victor Erimus, and I am but a humble archeologist, seeking knowledge across our great and wonderful world.” He bowed, velvet robes whispering across the table as they hung low. “To answer your question, my dear rabbit, I seek a particular artifact, in an old ruin to the north.  It would provide an astounding exhibit for the museum I work for, and we are desperate to find someone willing to retrieve it for us.” Murci scowled at the use of the racial epithet, and Saar Talan filed the information in the back of his mind.

“Desperate enough to pay up front?” Adina did not look as though she was believing his story, but the hunger in her eyes drove her to continue investigating.

Victor frowned. “Well, no, of course not.  Our museum can ill afford to lose the money, should you disappear without bringing the artifact.  I’m sure you understand.”

“What is the artifact?  Where is it located?” Murci squinted as she tried to look closely at his face. 

“So many questions!” Victor feigned surprise, and underneath the act Saar Talan could feel his mounting frustration. “Look, if you aren’t interested I can certainly find someone else willing to work for their gold.”

“Will you at least buy us dinner while we discuss the details?” Adina’s stomach growled beneath the table, though Saar Talan doubted anyone heard it other than him.

Victor sneered at her. “I’m afraid I hardly have time to make a meal of this.  Look, I have a map here…are you interested in taking the job or not?  It’s simple.  You are at point A, and I merely need someone to get to point B and retrieve the item, then bring it back here so I can add it to our collection.”

The three at the table looked at one another, each one silently agreeing that this seemed like a terrible idea.  Adina shook her head, and she opened her mouth to speak the refusal for them all, but Victor’s rage cut her to the chase.

“I knew any group that included a _cow_ and a couple of women wouldn’t have the sense to know an opportunity when they saw it.” He turned on his heel and stalked back through the crowd, the insult ringing in their ears as his footsteps faded.  Saar Talan let the anger wash over him like the soothing ripples of a warm bath, embracing the rage as he would a lover.  He could chase the man and do unspeakable things to him in order to exact revenge, but in the end he decided that he was not worth the effort.  Perhaps later he would locate him and take his life in exchange for the map that he carried, but for now Saar Talan would enjoy his drink, and save his anger for another time when he might need it.

 

***

 

“Asshole.” Adina muttered, hunching her shoulders as she glared at the table.  She kept her gaze glued to the warped wood to avoid watching the promise of money walk away, each silent footstep the flip of a coin she had willingly thrown to the wind.  She was desperate, but she swore that if she ever got _that_ desperate she would just off herself and get the inevitable end over with.  Better to be dead than used.

The waitress deposited a mug of cheap ale beneath her nose, and the rancid twang of over-brewed hops invaded her senses like a drunken army.  She took a sip, wincing as the foam filled the back of her throat and burned the edges of her cheeks.  It was deplorable, but it was what she could afford, and it was a damn sight better than nothing at all.  She eyed Murci’s fruit infused concoction across the table, and wondered how an elf dressed in what she presumed to be _tree bark_ could afford such a thing.  As she watched the fizzy pink monstrosity slosh around in the cup, a flash of movement caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. 

As though the evening had not already been full of enough strangeness, another set off footsteps carried yet another interloper towards them, to intrude on the world’s most awkward dinner once again.  The figure was wearing heavy black armor, and a cowl that covered most of their face, though distinctly feminine features could be discerned if she looked closely.  She walked up to them confidently, with no hint of worry or fear in her stride.  When she stopped in front of the table, her presence was like an oncoming storm, holding their attention with the sheer force of will that emanated from each fine toned muscle.  Adina looked up into the hood, and her eyes met a gaze of steel and authority, severe and intense, chilling her to her very core as though she looked into the endless void itself.  The woman smiled, and although it was a subtle quirk to her lips, she could tell that it signified great approval.  Whatever the consequences of refusing the uncharismatic Victor, it had impressed this formidable goddess, and that was worth all the nights of starvation until the end of time as far as Adina was concerned.   

The lithe warrior canted her hips to the side, crossing her arms over her chest.  Adina took note of the finely crafted sword and shield strapped to her back, their craftsmanship far surpassing that of anything she had seen since leaving Rivain.  The stranger lifted extraordinarily toned arms and pulled the hood back from her face, revealing herself in the flickering firelight.  Strong cheek bones rested beneath thundercloud eyes, and black hair cropped close to her head glimmered in the glow of the lamps.  When she smiled, the scar on the side of her cheek traveled upward, and the sever expression on her face lessened just enough to make Adina’s heart flutter in her chest.  She looked like a warrior that had seen all there was to see and kept fighting, the sort of person that exuded honor and exemplified duty.  Adina could practically feel the fierce loyalty rolling off of her, and she knew that she was not someone that she would want as her enemy.

“You know a trap when you see it.” A Nevarran accent dripped from her lips like ginger tinted honey. “I may have use for talent such as that.”

“I have a lot of talents I’m sure you would find _useful_.” Adina leaned her arm on the table and rested her chin in her palm, batting long eyelashes in the direction of the woman she was worshipping as indiscreetly as possible. 

The woman cleared her throat, pretending not to hear, which enticed Adina all the more.

“Allow me to introduce myself.  I am Lord Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast, and I have a proposition for you, if you are willing to hear me out.”

Adina licked her lips, which suddenly felt too dry for comfort.  The presence of someone as distinguished as a Lord Seeker was something she hadn't anticipated.  Her mind whirled with a hundred possibilities, least of which was the thought of becoming a Seeker, most of which was Cassandra splayed out on a bed, arching her back as her eyes closed in pleasure. “Am…am I what you’ve been _seeking_ , milady?” She gave the Seeker bedroom eyes, while inwardly she wondered if that ale she had imbibed was causing her to hallucinate.  Did she really just hit on a Lord Seeker with a _pun?_ This was not going how she had intended.  Cassandra, perhaps out of pity, continued to ignore the advances.

“Well, you’re certainly prettier than the last guy.  Care to have a seat?” Murci gestured to an empty space at the table, and with a curt nod Cassandra took the proffered space.  Saar Talan watched them all with silent angst, his eyes cataloguing each movement without showing any outward opinion on any of it.

“Thank you.  As I’m sure you are aware, the ‘artifact’ that Victor wanted you to retrieve was no mere trinket.” She dropped her voice, speaking in an imperious whisper. “In the wrong hands, it could prove disastrous for all of Thedas.”

Saar Talan laughed, and it was the most mirthless sound Adina had ever heard. “And I suppose we’re the ones who are going to be responsible for saving the world then?  What if I told you I just came here for a drink?”

“It always starts in a tavern.  Haven’t you ever heard a story before?  The heroes meet in a tavern and are given a grand quest by a mysterious do-gooder.” Murci’s unbridled enthusiasm was infectious in the most unpleasant way.  Like a plague that induced insurmountable levels of annoyance.

“I didn’t have stories growing up.” He returned to stony silence after the cryptic statement, watching them and waiting.  Adina wasn’t sure what he was waiting _for_ , but the mage’s body language constantly spoke of someone who was simply biding their time.

“I understand you are reluctant.  A wise person would be.” Cassandra smiled, and it was disarmingly attractive. “I implore you to consider this, however.  I cannot promise an extensive reward, but I can assure you that we will compensate you somehow.  There are other groups racing to retrieve this artifact, and it is _vital_ that we get there before them.  The fate of the world could very well depend on it.”  She stood, abruptly rising from her seat and returning the hood to its resting place on the crown of her head. “Do not make your decision now.  Think on it.  I would expect no less from those I deem to have potential.  If you are interested, find me in the Inn of Vashan, in Perivantium.  I can give you further details then.”

She walked out before Adina had time to formulate another question or proposition.  She watched her go, falling into a pleasant lull to the sway of her hips.  After she had disappeared through the crowd and out the door, Adina turned her attention to the two odd balls at the table that now served as her companions.

“So…you in?” Murci was bouncing in her seat, green eyes alight with mischief and adventure.  As much as she wanted to slap her cheery face, Adina had to admit the prospect of having a bit of purpose in her life again didn’t sound half bad.

Adina shrugged. “Why not?”

Saar Talan grinned, a wolf running with sheep. “In.”

Adina looked at each of them, strangers until a moment ago, and she thought that perhaps this job was worth taking. They nodded to each other, knowing that, at least for this one thing, they were all on the same page. For better or worse, they were colleagues now.

Maker help her, but she did find herself in strange company.

 

***

 

The border into Tevinter was still miles off, and his feet felt like he was dragging all of Orzammar around his ankles.  In a metaphorical sense that was probably true, but Faren didn’t dignify his emotional baggage by noticing it.  He had his problems, but he kept them neatly bundled in the back of his mind, never to be shown the light of day. 

The light of day that was currently beating down on him with ruthless efficiency.  His red hair felt like fire atop his head, his beard an oven attached to his chiseled chin.  Every layer of leather across his stocky chest was heated to a golden brown, and beneath that was the sand that had crept into every crevice, grinding away at his hapless skin.  There was a reason Harding had warned him to never head into the desert, but as usual he was too stubborn to listen.

He dismissed the thought with practiced resolve, pushing the memories of the Inquisition out of his mind.  Thinking of the family that he had made for himself left a hole in his chest that could never be filled, and so it was best to ignore that with the rest of the things he refused to pay attention to.  He was determined to be driven by what was ahead of him, not what was behind him.  The Inquisitor had bowed to the Orlesian council, giving up her power just as she had given up her hand.  He had to trust that she had done what was right, just as she had the entire time she had led them through Corypheus’ horrible war.  But if he had been asked his opinion, Faren would have opted not to dissolve the only force that seemed to be doing good in the world.

He had lost his purpose the day they had handed down the orders to go home.  Without that he was left to wander, finding something else to distract him from himself.  He had fallen to planning, and that plan weighed heavily on his shoulders, settling like a pall of seething rage that would not dissipate no matter how he tried.  He wanted desperately to turn around, to head back south and return to the cool, wintry comfort of the Frostbacks.  To plunge his feet into the snow and carve a path back to Orzammar.  There, he could finally slake his thirst, finally whet his blade on the blood of the bitch that had used him like a pawn. 

The thought of Jarvia made him clench his fists, muscles clamping until his knuckles turned white.  He stopped his march forward, taking a deep breath as he tried to stabilize his racing thoughts.  His gaze drifted to the sky, that vast expanse of nothing that threatened to swallow him every day.  Nothing was so wonderful or so calming as the sky above, reminding him just how small he was, and how small his problems really were.  His feet turned, pointing of their own accord back towards the south.  It would be so easy, to go and take her life and take back a piece of his honor.  She had taken so much from him the day she sold him out, and he wanted to run his dagger through her heart and extract all the blood in her veins as penance. 

 Spinning, he resolutely headed north again.  He wasn’t sure what was keeping him, what was making him run from the best chance he had to set himself free.  He could end it, end the grudge and the hatred, and the chip on his shoulder and her reign of crime in a city he didn’t give two shits about.  He _wanted_ her dead, didn’t he? 

There would be time.  He promised himself that there was still time to go find her, to tell her exactly what he thought of her before bringing that chapter of his life to a final close.  For now, he wouldn’t think on it. 

After all, he had always wanted to see the Imperium.

 

***

 

He awoke in a cold sweat, the dream still clinging to the backs of his eyelids, haunting his vision as he blinked reality into view.  Harold sucked in air, trying to fill his lungs with something tangible and real, to fight the demons scrabbling on the other side of the veil and mocking his visions. 

He tossed his feet over the edge of the bed, standing on the chilled stone for a moment before shuffling to the basin of water on the other side of the room.  He splashed as much as could fit in his palms across his face, the bracing cold enough to dissolve the lingering fingers of the Fade still curling around the back of his consciousness.  The water sloshed in the bowl as he rested his hands against the rim, letting his weight settle.  The dark of the early dawn slipped through the window like a lost lover, not that Harold would know anything of such things.  He grabbed a towel from the wall, scrubbing at his face as he ignored exactly how lonely that thought made him feel.

Three soft knocks disturbed the stillness of the morning, and he turned to see the furs at the front of his hut shift, one of the smaller magelings poking her head in. 

He tossed the towel on the floor, smiling at her. “Yes?”

“Skywatcher says Dagna was looking for you.  An hour ago.” Her eyes glittered in the dark.

“Does she ever sleep?” he shook his head, taking three long strides towards the door and grabbing his shoes.  The thick hide and fur felt heavy at this time of day, his nightmares making him more exhausted than when he had fallen into bed a mere four hours ago.  He was chased by fire and screaming in his dreams, and hunted by curiosity and the need for knowledge in his days.  It was not a recipe that led to a well-rested mage.   

“Thane Sun-Hair says Dagna will sleep when she’s discovered how to blow up all the world, because then there will be nothing left to figure out.” The girl moved the furs back further, her entire head coming into view, a pixie face full of freckles topped with a mess of blonde curls. She was probably only eight or nine, her magic coming like an early spring racing against the frost. “Do you think she can do that?  Blow up all the world?”

Harold ruffled her hair, and she scrunched up her nose in agitation. “Not on purpose.”

She stuck her tongue out at him before disappearing around the curtains, her footsteps echoing down the wooden walkways as she made her retreat.  He waited for several heartbeats, gathering his mental faculties, before he followed suit, walking into the frigid morning and turning to head towards Dagna’s makeshift laboratory. 

When he arrived she was, as he had expected, waist deep in stacks of notes, books discarded in every direction after she had viewed them and tossed them away in irritation, usually because they contained less information than she wanted.  A small pair of spectacles hung low on the tip of her nose, her eyes darting back and forth across a page whose contents were making her brows furrow.  He cleared his throat to make his presence known, and she jumped half a foot in the air and toppled off of the stool she had been sitting on like a bird ready to take flight. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” he rushed to help her up, but she waved away his hands, laying on her back and giggling up at the pink tinged sky. 

“Good morning, Harold.  Sleep well?”

“Like a baby.” He couched on the floor next to her, searching her face for signs of fatigue.  If there was one thing Dagna always managed to have too much of, it was energy.  He was constantly afraid that she would just pass out in the middle of what she was doing, plunging into a vat of some explosive mixture as she finally succumbed to consequences of months of not sleeping. 

“Which is to say not at all.” She frowned at his response, regarding him with concern.  He looked away, wishing he hadn’t said anything.  Happily, she opted to let his demons stay in the night, and she sat up, shaking dirt out of her auburn hair. “In any case, you have to get up now.  I need you to pack your bags.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Am I going somewhere?” of all the things he expected her to need at the crack of dawn, that had not been one of them.

“ _We_ are going somewhere, yes.  Ever been to Tevinter?” her eyes were brimming with the same look of mischief she got when Sera brought her a particularly volatile “present”, and Harold was filled with trepidation.  He had been working with Dagna for months now, and he trusted her as much as he could bring himself to trust anyone…but the idea of leaving was terrifying.  He had lived here since he was young, barely a scrap of a boy struggling to find a place to belong after his father had announced that he was no longer his son.  The Avvar had taken him in and given him a home and community he never could have imagined before, and the memory of the sharp pain of his mother turning away from his tears was more bearable as he gained his place amongst the Hold.  On the other hand, the things he did with Dagna were important.  She had worked with some of the most legendary people in Thedas, and he was proud that he was allowed to help her with that, in whatever capacity he could.

He swallowed back his nerves, giving her a winning smile. “I guess I’ll get the chance to visit now, huh?”

Her smile was infectious, and soon the grin on his face didn’t seem so foreign.  He couldn’t say no to her.  Harold was a sucker for someone asking for help, even more so when that person happened to be an adorable dwarf with a penchant for groundbreaking scientific discoveries and explosions.  He was a lost cause, so he might as well accept his fate right from the start.

“Go get your things, we leave in an hour.” She shifted to her feet, and took the opportunity to ruffle his hair before he stood and towered over her once more. “Oh, and Harold?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t forget to pack your bedroll.  Sera is _not_ gonna let you use hers again after what happened last time.” Dagna winked, and he felt a blush creep over the sides of his face, practically steaming in the morning air.  Her giggles followed him as he headed back to his hut, and he wondered if he should try to apologize to Sera again.

Maybe when she didn’t have her bow.   

Besides, he apparently had loftier concerns to worry about.  _Tevinter_.  He had a feeling this was going to be more than a simple research expedition. 


	2. Adina Wanted to Vomit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Adina begins to suspect her travel companions are insane. Also cameos.

Adina had been half convinced that the elf would insist on skipping down the damn path, but by some miracle she walked like a normal person, albeit a clumsy person that tripped on her own feet more often than she walked smoothly.  The road that they were traveling on was not as impressive as the ruins of the great imperial highway, which she had briefly ventured on after disembarking the _Noodlehead_ , but it was bereft of debris and they were making good progress.  Fine gravel crunched underfoot, and the sun was high in the clear, blue sky.  They were surrounded on either side of the road by rolling plains, the gentle hills covered in long fronds of verdant grass, drifting back and forth in the wind like the tides of a great, green sea.  Rocky outcroppings served as silent sentinels to the newly minted adventurers, the stone pillars the discarded leavings of the large mountains that rose up out of the ground in the distance. 

Murci hopped and did a quick turn, spinning on the ball of her foot to face Adina and Saar Talan as they straggled behind her. “Do you think there are any bears this far north?”

“Why?” Adina raised an eyebrow at her, the exuberance of her question as confusing as anything else that tumbled out of her mouth. 

Murci clapped her hands together, bubbling over with merriment. “I’ve always wanted a bear!”

“You want…to _have_ the bear?” Saar Talan’s disbelief actually goaded him into speech, and his words dripped with judgment. 

“Of course!  Can you even imagine?” she sighed with a profound sense of longing. “Riding into battle atop a glorious, furry friend!  And I would never have to buy another bedroll again, because he - or _she_ \- could keep me warm at night!”

Adina snorted. “Or eat you.”

“That is the more likely outcome.” Saar Talan agreed. They shared a smirk between them as Murci puffed out her chest and lower lip. 

“You guys just don’t get it.” She spun back around, marching forward with the renewed purpose of putting distance between herself and the dissenters.

Adina watched her go, shaking her head at the sheer amount of idiocy some people were capable of.  _Taming bears._ There was no end to the ways the elven people sought their own demise, it seemed.

As she watched the elf flounce about before tripping on her own cloak, Adina was able to spot movement on the road ahead of them.  She could just make out three figures, turning the corner into their line of sight from around the bend.  They were wearing heavy robes similar to Victor’s, thick velvet and large cowls that screamed “villainy” louder than the roar of a dragon just poked on the side of the head with a sack of bricks.  She shifted her hand to the hilt of her sword as the distance between the strangers and themselves diminished.  They made no motion to hide as they approached, but from their stances and the manner of their stride she could presume they were not out to deliver the peace of the Maker to road-weary travelers. 

When they were close enough to shout, the tallest of the figures made use of the fact. “Victor sends his regards.” He lifted his arm, and Adina felt the chilling sizzle of magic sear the air against her skin. “ _For the Venatori!!!_ _”_

She ducked as he flung his hand forward, sending a ball of fire roughly the size of a bronto sailing over the top of her head and singing the stray hairs that were not properly contained in the safety of a helm, which she had unfortunately sold a few days ago to pay for an evening meal.  She batted at the offending locks with her gauntlet as she swung her sword out of its scabbard with the other hand, smelling the burning locks that she had been too late to extinguish and wondering if the nauseating aroma was her penance for enjoying Free Marcher cooking at the expense of her armor.  Dust puffed outward in great clouds from her sliding feet as she took up a battle stance, grimacing at the mages. 

“Fool!” Saar Talan flipped his staff off of his back, twirling it as a maelstrom of color coalesced around the dark crystal lodged at the head.  He thrust it high into the air and an otherworldly mist seemed to be drawn to it before he planted it into the ground, sending gravel scattering in all directions as magic flooded the air.  Adina felt the world around her shimmer for a moment before her eyes adjusted to the spell, her body enveloped in a barrier to protect her from harm.  She smirked, hefting her sword as she eyed their assailants, feeling strength fill her bones as the spell took its full effect. 

Murci, two steps ahead of Adina, spread her feet apart as she yanked her short bow out of her pack.  It would have been a fluid motion, and perhaps even impressive, had the edge of the weapon not been caught by the collar of her cloak, twisting it in midair so that her fingers lost their hold.  The bow toppled to the ground, knocking all her arrows out of their quiver on the way down, so that Murci was shrouded in a sea of clattering wood and despair.  She squeaked, her arms flailing as she tried to catch the errant items, her hands closing around the center of an arrow that she promptly held out before her like a sword.  She looked at the tip of the arrow as the Venatori mirrored her examination, their faces masks of incredulity as they all stared at the small metal point, no more threatening than a thumb tack.

Murci smiled, still holding the arrow outward while taking several steps back. “Hey, can’t we just talk things out?  Maybe a little?”

The response was a volley of frozen spears, launched at the elf with pinpoint accuracy.  She squealed and tried to leap out of the way, succeeding only in making the ice hit her feet rather than her softly clad stomach.  Her boots were encased in a thick block of ice within seconds, and she plummeted back into the ground, teetering for a moment before her balance failed and her ass met the ground with a bone rattling thud.

Adina took enough time to roll her eyes - with added drama - at Murci before she launched herself at the mage that had cast the spell, her feet obliterating the gravel beneath them as her heavy plate added extra force to her building momentum.  The fool had enough time to blink before she had thrust her sword through his middle with enough force that he was lifted off the ground.  He could only just register the blow before he was flying backwards, the hit carrying him off of the blade and into the air, a crimson arc of blood spurting from the wound as he went.  He crashed into his comrade, both of them careening into the ground in a cloud of dust and gore. 

Adina turned and stomped on the block of ice around Murci’s feet, shattering it into mist and dust so that she could stand again.  She picked up her bow and strung the arrow still held in her trembling fingers, aiming it at the two Venatori struggling to get up around their tangled robes.  She let the arrow fly, and it wobbled through the air before sinking into the dirt about three feet shy of hitting anything useful.  Happily, Saar Talan was not relying on the prowess of their “archer”, and he held up the palm of his hand, clenching his fist with an expression of terrifying glee on his twisted face.  The two Venatori on the ground burst into flames, their robes going up as though they were made of gaatlok.  They made horrible, grotesque shrieking sounds for a moment before falling blessedly silent, although the brittle chuckle from the Qunari continued even after his victims had finally died. 

All three turned to face the final Venatori, who took one look at the smoldering pile of his compatriots and held up his hands in supplication, taking a slow half step away from them.

“Y-you said something about t-talking things out?” he grinned and shrugged, his knees shaking so hard that his robes were fluttering like curtains in the wind.

Without any further prompting, Murci returned her bow to its place on her back. She took two skipping strides towards the Venatori, and then placed her hands on her hips, in what Adina could only assume was her attempt to be intimidating. “Who are you and why are you trying to kill us?” her voice held all the menace of a naked baby nug.  Adina felt her jaw hang open, and she looked towards Saar Talan, who had tilted his head to the side in confusion, making his horns look like the prow of a boat that was slowly capsizing.  

“You have got to be kidding me.” Adina stepped up to the elf and gestured towards the flinching mage. “You wanna talk things over with the murderous mage in ‘I’m clearly a bad guy’ robes?”

The Venatori frowned at her. “Hey - ” She pointed her sword at his throat for a second, cutting off his words with the obvious threat.  He swallowed, and it was satisfying to her the way his throat bobbed nervously. “I was just going to compliment your superior strength and prowess, my fair, lovely lady.”

“Call me lovely again and I’ll cut your balls off and stuff them into your eye sockets.  Do we have an understanding, _good ser?_ _”_ He nodded frantically, and Adina turned her attention back to the elf that apparently wanted to befriend anything that wanted to kill her. “Are we seriously having a conversation about this?”

Murci crossed her toothpick arms over her willowy chest. “You know, he could have valuable information.  You _could_ cut off his head, but something tells me it wouldn’t all come falling out on a nice little note.  I’m not well versed in reading blood splatter.” 

Adina scowled at her for a moment before lowering her sword, stuffing it into the scabbard without wiping the blade.  It would rust, and she would likely pay for the carelessness later, but if she didn’t put it somewhere she was going to run it through the elf _and_ the Venatori to forge a kabob of imbeciles.  “Fine.” She ground out the word through clenched teeth. “Do the thing, but if he sets you on fire I’m not putting your ass out.”

Murci smiled, an irritant that would surely earn her a fist in the face before they had completed the job they had been assigned. “Duly noted, my dear.  Duly noted. “ She turned back to the Venatori, giving him the same saccharine grin. “Now, would you care to answer my previous question?  I can repeat it if you like.”

“Er, no, that’s okay…um, my name is Jeffrey.” He cleared his throat in an attempt to banish the quivering in his voice. “I work for Victor, sort of.  I mean, I work for the Venatori, but he was the one calling the shots since I joined.”

“Hello Jeffrey.” Murci continued beaming. “And why was it you were trying to kill us?”

He tilted his head back away from her in a slow recoil. “Because Victor…told me to?”

Adina rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to strangle everyone. “Why are you working for the Venatori?” she asked.

“I needed a job.” He shrugged, and when Adina continued to glare at him expectantly, he sighed. “I didn’t have much opportunity where I came from.  I found out about an Inquisition agent working undercover and sold her out to the Venatori, and they offered me a place with them.  It pays better than crime, and there are definitely more perks.”

“Do you know why Victor wanted us dead?” Murci’s voice was honey and frosting dumped on a pile of sugar.  Adina wanted to vomit.

“Presumably because you didn’t take the job to go get the artifact.” The tension in Jeffrey’s shoulders started to relax as he continued to talk, which was vexing to her.

“What do you know about this artifact?” Adina placed her hand back on the hilt of her sword as she growled the question at him, and his posture straightened again while his eyes opened a fraction of an inch wider.

“Not much, ma’am.  I’m not a high enough pay grade to know more than it’s really important, and there’s supposedly a bunch of people trying to get their hands on it.”

Murci opened her mouth to ask another question, but it turned into a shriek of horror as a long, jagged blade protruded from Jeffrey’s chest, lifting him into the air as his face contorted with shock and pain.  Saar Talan twisted the staff in his palm, and the weapon jerked in Jeffrey’s back, severing his spine with a sickening crunch.  The light faded from his eyes, and Saar Talan dumped him onto the ground, pulling out a filthy cloth and wiping the remnants of the mage from his murder stick.

Murci stomped her foot with indignant rage. “What in the void did you do that for?!”

The statuesque qunari shrugged. “He didn’t know anything worthwhile.”

“So you murdered him?!” Murci’s voice rose an octave, and Adina winced as the sonic barrage assaulted her ears. “You’re a heartless monster!”

Saar Talan responded with a sadistic grin, his teeth too white against his dark grey lips, which was actually more horrible to witness than the high pitched anger of the blonde rogue.

“At least he got him to shut up.” Adina muttered as she dusted herself off, turning away from the sight of Jeffrey’s rumpled corpse. “Come on, we need to get to Perivantium and report to the Lord Seeker that she isn’t the only one looking for this dusty piece of history.”

Murci nodded and started picking up her scattered arrows, casting a final glare at Saar Talan, who began nonchalantly cleaning his nails and pretending not to notice the elf’s disdain.  When Murci had gathered all her things, they started down the road again together, and Adina fervently hoped that this was as weird as the journey would get.

 

***

 

She watched as the group finally made their way onward towards Perivantium, the remnants of the spectacle of their first fight strewn across the road like grim confetti.  Her lips twitched in a faint smile before she shook her head, sliding off the rock and onto the solid ground below.  Her cloak fluttered in the soft breeze that was picking up now that dusk was settling over the plains. She took a deep breath, enjoying the clear air, before marching with brisk efficiency back towards Hasmal.

When she arrived at the town, she strolled right past the tavern, walking into the quieter sections of the town where the lanterns remained unlit for lack of nightly traffic.  She turned down an alley, weaving through a small maze of dingy buildings and unpaved pathways, stepping over fallen mountains of garbage that no one bothered to clean or even acknowledge.  The door to her destination rested in a tilted hovel, the wood barely clinging to the hinges that were so rusted they didn’t look as though they would work.  She knocked, three sharp raps followed by two soft ones, and a final, full fisted pound against the withered oak.  She heard shuffling from within as the resident moved around, and she saw one evergreen eye peer out of the dusty window in the wall, glaring at first with trepidation and then with recognition.  The door was unlatched and pulled open, and a petite hand grabbed the collar of her coat and ushered her inside with a forceful tug. 

“You know, you could have just said ‘come in’.” She smiled at the shorter woman, whose red curls were askew in a hundred different directions from tense fingers running through them over and over again.  Her stress was tattooed across her face by the stiff way her brows rose, and the burden of her regrets obvious by the way her shoulders sagged and her neck muscles pulled together at the base of her skull, but still she had an irrepressible brightness that shone through it all, the dawn light that could never be broken.  

Autumn rolled her eyes. “Count it as a hug, since I’m not very good at those these days.” She waved the stump of her arm around in the air, the jagged scar at the end still pink as though it had just healed moments ago.  Cassandra resisted the urge to frown and scold her for the inappropriate humor.  She had learned long ago that her joking about it was considerably better than her _not_ joking about it, which usually meant she was bottling up her emotions rather than dealing with them. “So, how did it go?”

“They took the job.  They are headed to Perivantium as we speak.” She took off her gloves and tossed them on the desk, one that had previously been littered with notes that were now stuffed in a bag resting on the floor.

“You know, I really don’t like hiring outsiders for this.  I wanted this to remain a small operation.” Autumn frowned, pulling a navy blue cloak off the wall and settling it around her shoulders. “You trust them?”

Cassandra snorted. “They’re completely insane.  _You_ would love them.  Besides, who else would you send?  Varric only offered to send Hawke, and we both know she is… _not_ the right choice for this job, and everyone else is either hip deep in something else that needs to be done or so far undercover we would risk their lives to pull them back out.”

Autumn smirked. “I mean, we _could_ just have Lilly blow the whole thing up.  That _probably_ wouldn’t cause another Breach, right?”

“It’s Hawke.  It would _definitely_ cause another Breach.  Or wake an archdemon.” She muttered, thinking off all the chaos that followed Lilly Hawke wherever she went. “Or _both_.”

Autumn swatted her on the shoulder, though her expression softened with a smile. “Fine, we do it your way.” She paused, and the severity of her responsibility was suddenly visible across her pale face. “You’d better be right.  He can’t have it.”

“I know.” Cassandra looked away from the pain lingering in her friend’s eyes.

The former Inquisitor took a deep breath before squeezing Cassandra’s shoulder, the rogue’s smile widening as she swallowed the complicated feelings she carried with her, always. “Speaking of _him_ , I have to be going before he figures out I’m here.”

“Of course, Inquisitor.” The title slipped off her tongue before she could stop it, an old habit that didn’t want to die, hard or otherwise.  Autumn flinched from the moniker and withdrew further into her cloak, wrapping it around the empty space where her arm, and her mark, and her connection with him, used to be. 

“Thanks for the help, Cass.” Her voice was somber, and her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes any longer.

“Anytime.  Tell Cullen I said hello, won’t you?”

“Yes, yes.” Autumn flapped her remaining hand back and forth, stomping her feet so that her toes settled properly in her boots. “Now I really have to go before he starts yelling at me for being ‘reckless and inconsiderate of my own hide’.” She puffed out her cheeks as she mimicked her husband, and Cassandra couldn’t help but chuckle at the accuracy of her impression.

Still, the horrible state of their lives crept back in under the humor, and Cassandra couldn’t hold back the warning. “You know, he will find you eventually.”

Autumn froze with her hand on the door handle. Her shoulders shuddered, but by the time she turned to face her once more her smile was back and her eyes were as bright as the everglades on a sunny day. “We will just have to make sure we’re ready when he does.”  She pushed open the door, and after a half step she turned back once more. “Cass?  Make sure they don’t fail.”

Cassandra brought her fist up and clenched it over her heart in a salute. “I give you my word, we will ensure they succeed.”

Autumn nodded, and tossed a playful wink over her shoulder before she sprinted out into the growing night, her cloak rendering her invisible after only a few silent footsteps. 

It would normally have been enough that ensuring their success would have saved the world, but this time Cassandra wasn’t motivated by that particular fact.  She had saved the world enough times that it had almost become commonplace, although she could never quite consider it dull.  No, she would ensure that this band of strangers they had hired would succeed for entirely different reasons.  Not for the world, not for her duty, but for Autumn.  Because that woman needed something to go right for a change, and if Cassandra had to throw an entire army at that artifact she would, all to make sure they finally had some good news to bring back to her doorstep.


End file.
